Like a death row inmate condemned to hang, Sam walked the last few steps from the kitchen to the front door. A resigned look fell across his dark, craggy features as he scratched at the three days' stubble on his chin. He opened the door gingerly, almost wishing it was some snot-nosed kid selling candy bars for a school trip... instead of the cruel reality of Harvey's jovial, slightly rotund mug.
"Howdy, pardner. You ready to roll?" Harvey had obviously doused himself in cheap cologne, once again. The remainder of his greasy black hair was slicked back in a style that went out twenty years back. His unstylish khaki pants appeared to be about an inch and a half too short for his legs. The guy almost looked like his mother still dressed him in the morning.
"Just tell me where we're going. I've gotta be up for work early, so we can't stay out all night."
Sam waited for the inevitable answer.
"I've got a hankering for dirt, leather, and rodeo. I hear there's this awesome country bar that's a rockin' place to meet the babes. Plus, they have a mechanical bull!"
RATINGS BREAKDOWN
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